


The Emperor's Daughter

by Nary



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harrowhark Nonagesimus Goes To The Ball, Awkwardness, Bad Flirting, Ballroom Dancing, Courtship, F/F, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: "Doesanyonehere actually want to marry the Emperor's daughter?" Harrow asked."That's a great question," said Palamedes.  "I assume someone must.  Lady Dulcinea Septimus says she's, and I quote, 'stacked.'"
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav/Ianthe Tridentarius, Harrowhark Nonagesimus/Ianthe Tridentarius
Comments: 34
Kudos: 152
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Emperor's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkWitch (serkestic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serkestic/gifts).



Harrowhark knew, in an academic fashion, that attending a ball typically involved dancing. Her practical experience in that regard, however, had been desultory. Aiglamene was a half-hearted (and half-legged) instructor, and Ortus as a partner left much to be desired, with his tendency to get distracted by thinking of a particularly good line for his poem and then step on someone's feet, either hers or his own. She found herself therefore rather at a loss when presented with the full spectacle of the imperial ballroom, with its bright swirls of dancers and gleaming lights. At least, she thought, no one would be likely to ask her to dance, and she would be spared the embarrassment of making it abundantly clear to everyone that she didn't really know how.

So when a pale, blonde necromancer whose golden robe was artfully draped off one skinny shoulder approached her, Harrow initially assumed she was probably going to ask her where the bathroom was, or to move out of the way because she was blocking the way to the chocolate fountain. Instead, the pallid woman held out her hand. Harrow looked at it like it was a dead rat being presented to her on a plate.

"Come on," the woman said under her breath. "Dance with me before everyone starts to stare."

"Why?" 

"You're just making this worse for both of us, you know." She took Harrow's hand without waiting for her to respond and led her forcibly onto the dance floor. 

Harrow could tell she was from the Third House, but she still had no idea why someone like this could possibly want to dance with her. The ball was intended to solicit suitors for the Emperor's sole child and heir, Beloved Daughter of the Lord Undying, The River's Pontifex, Her Divine Highness. It was not some mediocre social networking event. "What do you want?" she demanded irritably as the woman wrapped one bony arm around her waist in a distressingly intimate way.

"I want to be able to say I once danced with the Daughter of the Ninth, is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," said Harrow through gritted teeth, trying not to trip over the ridiculous skirts of her gown.

"Fine, look," said the woman, eminently and infuriatingly reasonable. "We can't all marry Her Grand High Ladyship of the Dead and Reborn, and some people here don't even want to. Look, Abigail Pent is already married, and she's here. Isaac Tettares is approximately twelve, and Silas Octakiseron is... whatever he is. But they all came regardless. Why shouldn't we all take the opportunity of this grand event to accomplish our own goals too?"

Harrow was, if anything, more confused than before. "What goals, winning this year's Most Irritating Necromancer award?"

She ignored the jibe. "Let me introduce myself - Ianthe Tridentarius, Princess of Ida. You might have heard of my twin sister, Princess Coronabeth." She inclined her head in the direction of the glamourous figure who stood out like a phoenix among the grey doves of the Sixth House. "My _elder_ sister," she added, meaningfully.

Harrow was an only child, quite literally - she was the sole person under the age of thirty-five in her House - and had a tenuous grasp on the notion of sibling rivalry. "So what, you're jealous of her and want my help to kill her and make it look like an accident, so you'll be Heir to the Third House?"

Ianthe laughed in her face, and then twirled her around in a way that made Harrow's head spin. "I don't know what you're talking about. Coronabeth makes for an excellent distraction, which lets me get some actual work done. If she died, I'd have to go to dozens of these ridiculous events, not to mention hanging around with Naberius even more than I already do."

"Then what _do_ you want?" Harrow demanded.

"I want to see your inner sanctum," said Ianthe, in a weirdly seductive tone. "The library at Drearburh. It's said that the Ninth has books that have been forgotten everywhere else, tomes of ancient and forbidden lore." This was entirely true, and Harrow felt both nervous and excited at the prospect. "I think that sounds soooo hot," Ianthe murmured, letting her scrawny fingers trail down Harrowhark's arm in a way that made her shiver. 

"You should see their copy of _Busty Cohort Invader Vixens,_ " said an unfamiliar voice. Both of them turned and looked up - quite far up - to see the golden eyes of the Mistress of the Mithraeum, Regina Sacrorum, Conqueror of the Rising Tide, Her Divine Highness Gideon Prime. The Necrolord's daughter was tall and broad-shouldered, with short-cropped red hair and a distractingly crooked smile, and Harrow and Ianthe were struck dumb for a moment at her presence.

"Am I butting in?" she asked, hands shoved in the pockets of her finely-tailored tailcoat. "Or are you two actually here for the great date-and-mate-a-thon?" She looked from one to the other, giving each a casual once-over. "How about you first, sweetheart?" she said to Ianthe. Harrow felt unaccountably rejected, as if she'd been measured and found wanting, even though she had absolutely no interest in becoming the bride of an arrogant, high-handed jerk like Gideon Prime.

The junior princess of the Third House allowed herself to be taken into the strong arms of Her Divine Highness, but shot a _we're not finished here_ look at Harrow before she was swept away in the flood of dancers. Harrow, left behind like a piece of debris cast up by the tide, was simultaneously relieved and disgruntled.

"Did Her Divine Highness just give you the cut direct?" said a young man in the milquetoast grey robes of the Sixth House. 

Harrow eyed him warily, at a loss as to why he would be speaking to her. "She said she was going to dance with Ianthe first," she heard herself saying pathetically. "Which implies someone else second."

"I assume she'll dance with everyone," shrugged the tall, gangly gentleman. "At least, everyone who isn't hiding in the bathroom to avoid her." He bowed politely, then adjusted his spectacles, which had slid down his nose in the process. "Permit me to introduce myself - Palamedes Sextus, Warden of the Sixth House, who is strongly considering a broom closet instead to avoid overcrowding."

"Does _anyone_ here actually want to marry the Emperor's daughter?" Harrow asked. 

"That's a great question," said Palamedes. "I assume someone must. Lady Dulcinea Septimus says she's, and I quote, 'stacked.' It doesn't appeal to me, personally, but I can imagine how it would to others. And quite aside from her physical charms, there's the prospect of the enormous power and honour that would come with the match, of course."

"Power that comes through marriage isn't truly earned," Harrow said primly.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Palamedes replied. "Maybe you can look at it as a kind of trial to pass through, or a test of will. Perhaps a scientific experiment? That's how I would approach it, if I were in your position."

"What position?" Harrow was beginning to feel like everyone here knew something - many somethings - she didn't. It was true that the Ninth House kept to themselves for the most part, rarely attending the galas and parties that the other Houses participated in like a well-dressed bloodsport. But she had always considered that a virtue, not a detriment. It felt like a trite platitude to realize now that there was more to the world than books and bones and prayers.

"The position of being Her Divine Highness's type. Which I am very much not, for any number of reasons, thank God."

Her _type_? Harrow struggled to wrap her head around the idea that she might be anyone's type. What was Gideon's type, then, small and cranky and more interested in bones than people? Her gaze followed to where Ianthe and Gideon moved effortlessly across the dance floor, the elegant blonde wrapped snugly in the embrace of Her Divine Highness. _Clever,_ she thought, _and delicate, and dangerous._

If they were both Gideon's preferred type, and thus the most plausible matches for her to choose from, then perhaps Harrow had acquired a rival without actually meaning to. Now she wondered if Ianthe's earlier conversation with her had been merely to get a sense of what type of challenge she was up against, rather than out of any particular interest in the contents of her library. The thought made her feel unexpectedly bitter - even if she hadn't especially enjoyed the dancing, or the physical contact, the idea that someone might be interested in some of the same things she was interested in had been pleasant, for at least a few seconds.

"But don't worry," said Palamedes, looking at the face journey she was going through behind her skull makeup. "Since you're not interested in a political marriage, I'm sure someone as intelligent as you're reputed to be can find a way to get out of it. Challenge her to a duel, or vomit on her shoes, or act like the isolation of the Ninth has driven you mad." His pale grey eyes flicked over to the dance floor and he added, "Best make up your mind what you're going to do now, though. Here she comes."

Her Divine Highness Gideon Prime swept through the assembled guests, who parted before her like the pages of a well-worn book, falling open always to the same place. She gave the faintest bow to Harrow, who realized that everyone was staring at her. "Daughter of the Ninth House, will you do me this honour?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Her hand was callused and warm, and Harrow took it gingerly, following her escort into the crowd. The option of vomiting on her shoes seemed to be out, at least for the moment, then. She felt faint as Gideon led her onto the floor, but somehow failed to actually pass out, although she did find herself leaning more heavily than she meant to on those well-muscled arms. 

"This has all got to be pretty weird for you, huh?" said Her Divine Highness. "You Ninth House nuns don't get out much."

"Yes," Harrow said stiffly. "I mean, no. We have our sacred duties to attend to, which leaves little time for such frivolity."

Gideon gave a devastatingly charming laugh, as she gently spun her partner across the floor. Harrow almost forgot for a moment that she hated dancing. "Tell me about it, sacred duties are the worst! Like getting married, am I right?"

Somehow it hadn't occurred to Harrow that Her Divine Highness might be just as unenthused about wedding a random stranger as the rest of them were. "I suppose so."

Just as she was beginning to feel the slightest hint of sympathy for the Necrolord's daughter, Gideon managed to spoil it by leaning in close and saying, "I always wondered - is it true the skeleton paint goes everywhere? Like not just the face, but a full-body job?"

"You're disgusting," Harrow said, then realized she had just told the Heir Divine that she was disgusting, and almost did vomit on her shoes after all.

Fortunately, her insult just made Gideon laugh again. "Hey, I had to ask." And then, most obnoxiously of all, she winked. " _Harlot Novices of the Ninth_ might not have been a reliable research source."

Infuriated, Harrow pulled away from Gideon's embrace mid-step. "I didn't come here to be... to be _propositioned_ like this!"

"Oh, shit," said Gideon. "How did you plan to be propositioned? Just tell me and I'll give it another try."

The crowd was staring at them, Harrow realized, her face hot and flushed under its heavy layer of paint. As she saw it, she had two choices under the circumstances - to storm off, and humiliate her entire House (a tempting option), or to stay and finish the dance and _then_ storm off. She grudgingly stepped back into place and allowed Gideon to wrap one of those unfairly strong arms around her waist and resume the dance. "Let's get this over with," she hissed.

"Whatever you say, my tenebrous mistress," Gideon replied with a grin. 

To Harrow's immense relief, the dance ended swiftly after that, and she was able to make her escape back to the shadows of the sidelines. She felt like she was sweating through her brocade robes and wondered if her makeup was running.

"Interesting choice," Ianthe Tridentarius murmured in her ear, making her jump. "It's not going to work, though." 

"What?"

"Playing hard to get. I can see why you tried it - Her Divine Highness does like a challenge."

"I'm not... playing anything!" Harrow snapped. "I'm not interested in any of these pointless games!"

"Of course that's what you would say - and maybe you even believe it," Ianthe replied. "Look, I meant what I said earlier. I'd love to explore your House's library. Maybe Gideon and I can visit as part of our honeymoon tour, darling." She gave a little flick of her fingers, half wave and half as though trying to get rid of an irritating insect, and turned away in a flourish of golden silk.

Harrow, unaccustomed to so many emotions and experiences all at once, struggled to put a name to the feeling that was burning her up from within. Jealousy? Resentment? Competitiveness? Finally she settled on _I will melt the bones of her face into pudding and call it fair._ It didn't mean that she actually wanted to marry Gideon herself, far from it! It just meant that she wasn't about to let Ianthe Smug-bitch Tridentarius win either. This was a totally healthy and rational approach to the problem, and one that was surely not bound to have any unexpected consequences.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


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